


two favors

by newtonartemis



Category: La Reina del Sur (TV), La Reina del Sur 2
Genre: F/M, General Chaib is up-to-date on his Respect Women shots, Missing Scene, One Shot, Oral Sex, Sex, fucking the ghosts away, old flames reuniting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 15:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtonartemis/pseuds/newtonartemis
Summary: Teresa asks General Chaib for a favor. And then she asks for another.“...remember that what has once been done may be done again.”― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo





	two favors

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: I see this as a little missing scene from episode 5 between General Chaib rescuing Teresa from the meat grinder and him driving her off to Plaza Aljarafe!! No reason why they had to go straight for Cayetana, I think it’s utterly reasonable that 24 hours or so passed before they began the trip. So yeah this is canon, although if I had any patience I'd wait for episode 6 before posting this to smooth out any inconsistencies. Oh well-- took a full 1 day out of my dissertation writing so the world is getting it NOW.
> 
> Note 2: I’m sorry but it’s canonical (TV canonical AND book canonical) that Teresa does not practice safe sex, or is at least mostly sloppy with it. I’m not saying I endorse that, it’s just why there is no condom scene. 
> 
> Note 3: Don’t ask me how General Chaib knows about Teresa’s whole deal with Teo. I’m sure he read the papers or whatever. If he was keeping enough tabs on her to know the second she set foot in SPAIN, not even Morocco, I'm SURE he was keeping tabs on her love life in Marbella. I don’t care how he gets it and neither should you!
> 
> Note 4: Also I really couldn’t be assed to write the all the dialogue in Spanish AND THEN do the translation hovertexts so I’m just doing most of it in English. That's not very authentic but whatever.
> 
> Note 5: I was embarrassed by the vaguely pornographic content in this so I couldn't bring myself to ask someplacelikebolivia to beta this. So if any or all of this sucks, please know it is due to my own folly/pride/unwillingness to humble myself before my friend with my weird soap opera porn, and not the fault of an imperfect beta. (She is perfect).

— _ ¿Se puede saber que es lo que te traes entre manos, amiga?_

— _ Algo muy grande. Tan grande como el amor que le tengo a mi hija… Necesito pedirte un favor._

— _ Lo que quieras. Ya te he dicho que estoy dispuesto a ayudarte en todo lo que sea necesario. Pero antes será mejor que te lleve a algún lugar donde te puedas dar un baño o una ducha con agua caliente_.

* * *

The colonel’s property in Málaga was different than Teresa had expected. Wait, no—the _general’s_ property, she reminded herself. But then, what was “expected” with him? It’s not that he wasn’t reliable. Absolutely the contrary. He had shown up at the meat factory today absolutely _un_ expectedly; although she probably _should_ have expected he would have the resources to know the second she landed in Spain. She felt guilty she hadn’t called him first, and grateful he had shown up anyway, just at the right moment. Her own personal, utterly reliable, deus ex machine.

 

The home she had been to in Morocco was lush and elegant and properly, well, Moroccan. This apartment was sparse, minimalist—rather like the little unit she had rented in Marbella after Fátima and Mohamed’s death. No, she shouldn’t let herself think of that now. Teresa tried concentrating on the trails of blood running down her legs, circling the drain a washed-out pink color. But that only made her think of the color of the bathwater when she had found Paty… no, stop. She turned up the heat on the water, desperately hoping the scalding water would distract her thoughts. Paty was hard to shake anytime Teresa let her guard down enough for to wander back into her mind. Her voice was clear enough to echo in the white tiled bathroom: _que horror este piso, mexicana, igual que el tuyo! No tiene nada de estilo, sinceramente parece la casa de un piscópata, por favor._

 

It almost made her smile—but a knock on the door instantly dissolved any trace of Paty’s echo. He was saving her from her own thoughts now, too, and from her ghosts.

 

“I’m sorry to bother you, Teresa,” he said, his clipped accent muffled by the door between them and the water rushing over her ears. “One of my men reminded me the housekeeper hasn’t been in this week, so I wanted to bring you a clean towel.”

 

She turned the faucet off and walked towards the door, balancing carefully to avoid slipping on the bare floors. She cracked the door open, peering her head around it.

 

The general was holding a towel, folded crisply despite it’s thick, fluffy texture. She forced her lips into a weak smile as she reached out and took it from him. He was silent, looking at her in that way that was unsettling and yet totally honest: he was curious about her current predicament, he was worried about her well-being, he was happy to see her again and, still, openly and unabashedly attracted to her. If she had been younger she might have blushed to see that in his gaze; now, at 45, she couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. All this time and he still looked at her like that—it made her wonder not if, but how often, he thought about the night they’d spent together in Morocco. She toweled off her hair quickly, just enough so it would stop dripping profusely, and wrapped the towel around her body.

 

She stepped into the adjoining bedroom to see him laying a set of folded clothes down on a dresser.

 

“I sent Aamir for a change of clothes, too. I believe these should be your size,” he said, smoothing his hand over the fabric.

 

Teresa nodded.

 

“I’ll leave you to change, then. Take your time. I’ll be in the office, just off the living room we came in from.”

 

“Wait,” she said. His hand froze on the door knob, which sent a little chill down her spine. “Could you…” her voice trailed off. Could he what? She knew what she needed to ask him, but she was starting to think there was something else she wanted, too.

 

“We need to talk now,” she said, holding up the towel around her as she went to sit down on the edge of the bed.

 

He arched an eyebrow, but said nothing as he came and sat next to her.

 

“I said I needed to ask you a favor,” she said.

 

“You did.”

 

“And you said you’d help me with whatever it was.”

 

“Indeed.” He reached out, placing his palm on top of her free hand. “You are so strong, Teresa. Surely you know that no man can resist an opportunity to help you when you seem… vulnerable.”

 

She took a deep breath, and looked him right in the eye. “I need you to take me to Plaza Aljarafe.”

 

His brow furrowed. “Aljarafe…? Isn’t that—“

 

“Yes. His mother was the one who sent Siso Pernas for me. And I can’t blame her, really,” she said bitterly. “I’m ready to burn the whole world down for my child. Why shouldn’t Cayetana want the same?”

 

Abeldaker patted her hand gently. “Very well, I understand. Ahmed can bring the car around in a few minutes. If we leave now we should be able make it before nightfall.” He pulled away from her, moving to stand and head into action—so Teresa twisted her wrist to grasp and pull down on the hand he had rested on hers.

 

“Not yet,” she insisted. “I want to wait. Just a day. I heard Siso call her as I was hanging there... she thinks he finally killed me. I want her to get comfortable before I ask to see her.”

 

“So you want to rise from the dead? Spook her?” He laughed, shaking his head. “My my, _mexicana_. You’ve always been ruthless, but this is quite something else.”

 

Teresa’s cheeks grew hot—she could only pray that she wasn’t blushing. “Well. She’s only heard the rumors about me. I think the only way to end this is to show her who I really am. And who Teo really was.”

 

“Very wise,” he replied, running his thumb in circles over the back of her hand. They both looked down. Teresa began running calculations in her head; she could feel Abdelkader doing the same. This was the time to act, if Teresa wanted to make her second ask—but before she could move he was lifting her hand to his mouth. He laid one kiss, softly, on the back of her hand—he looked up at her, they locked eyes, and he held her gaze as he untangled their hands, gently turned her hand over, and laid another kiss, harder, on her palm. Her heart thrummed out a forceful beat, arching against her rib cage.

 

“I am honored to be able to help you again, Teresa.” He cleared his throat. “In the meantime, shall I have some food sent up? I’m sure you are tired. You must want to rest before tomorrow.”

 

Aburdly, Teresa’s mind conjured Güero. She imagined him asking her if she’d rather get some rest while sitting next to her practically naked, wet body. The thought was so amusing that she couldn’t help but break into a smile. Not even Teo, who bided his time in pursuit of her, had any kind of patience in love making. He, Güero, and Santiago had all, always, on some level, been distracted by their attraction to her. It’s what made them sloppy, vulnerable to injury and death. But General Chaib wasn’t a man that could be distracted so easily. He knew how to hold his respect and admiration for a woman next to, but aside from, his attraction to her.

 

“I’m not hungry. But I do—“ She looked away, took a breath. “I do have another favor to ask you.”

 

He chuckled. “Well, I shouldn’t be surprised. You always come to me with tall orders.” Squeezing her hand, he leaned in and spoke almost in a whisper, “How else may I be of service, _mi reina_?”

 

With her right hand still wrapped up in Abeldaker’s hands, she let go of her hold on the towel, letting it fall away as she reached out, curling her fingers around the base of his neck, and pulling his lips into hers.

 

There was no hesitation from him. He kissed back instantly, fully; he let go of Teresa’s hands to cup her cheeks, snake his finger through her hair, and press his body towards her, hard and fast.

 

Her gamble—if you could call it that, being so certain as she was of the results—had paid off. _This_ , god, this was exactly what she needed. She knew, unequivocally, that Abdelkader cared for her and admired her and was attracted to her; but more importantly she knew that he would protect himself first. This man had enough sense to avoid loving her entirely, so she could give herself to him in this way with no fear that she’d marked him for death. Poor Pedro, she thought—she should have known better than to let him love her.

 

As if he knew another man had passed between them, Abdelkader pulled back from their kiss. His gaze felt hot but blurred—like a blistering summer sun trapped behind a passing cloud.

 

“Teresa,” he said, voice low and deadly serious. “Last time we did this, it was because you thought you owed me. If I’m helping you now it’s because I choose to. I have no expectations of a…. reward… from you.”

 

“I know”, she says, placing a hand on his thick, solid thigh. “Truthfully I want this more for me than for you.” She elbowed him gently. “You’re the only man I can trust not to get himself killed for getting involved with me.” He let out a hearty laugh.

 

“If you still want me, “ she said, purposefully causing her voice to falter, just enough to touch his protective instincts.

 

His eyes glazed over, but his smile twisted into a wolfish grin. “You know I do.” He rose to stand just in front of her legs, and pulling the tight black shirt over his head. “You know it pleases me greatly to have any part of your affections.”

 

Teresa was grinning widely now. She pushed herself further back on the bed, letting the towel fully drop away as she leaned back, reclining. She watched the general drag his gaze over her prone, damp body. Teresa chuckled, quietly, as she watched his hands speed up, rushing to undo his belt and get out of his clothes. image of her prone, still damp body.

 

Abdeldaker looked down, and says something that Teresa had to imagine was a curse word in Arabic. He looked back up at Teresa, almost sheepish—“My boots.”

 

She laughed with him, moving herself back up to a sitting position and leaning over one of his legs to help with one boot while he took care of the over. She undid the laces, peeled off the sock, and then tugged the hem of his trousers, pulling them down over his feet.

 

Still bent over, head by his shin, Teresa righted herself slowly, dragging her fingertips and palms up the length of the general’s leg. She felt him adjust his position—even without turning her head to look, she could see him propped up on his forearms, watching her move her hand slowly, up past his knee, over his thigh, inching closer to the crease of his hip. She glanced over her shoulder, just to show him her devilish smile. The closer she got, the slower she moved her hand, shifting the direction of her palm and opening her fingers widely—

 

But just before she reached her goal, Abdelkader pushed himself up, grabbing her waist roughly and throwing her back against the bed.

She giggled—Christ, when was the last time she had _giggled_ —utterly caught off guard and tickled by the kisses he began laying on her belly. His hands ran rough down her waist, to her hips, sliding under her thighs and pushing them up to frame his head as it moved lower and lower down her body.

 

And then he pressed his lips between her thighs, and the laughter was knocked right out of her. The first touches of his lips, his tongue, were subtle and soft, but nevertheless they took away her breath. She gasped for air, desperate and unraveling already.

 

Abdelbaker drank her in deeply, the slight stubble on his cheeks burning against her thighs. Her short, shallow breaths were barely audible over the slowly building ringing in her ears. For either several minutes or an eternity (Teresa couldn’t tell), it was practically silent in the room. Until he slid a finger inside her. The ringing in her ears cut out; a groan broke out of her body.

 

“ _Así, ma chère_ ,” he whispered, voice raspy and deep. The vibrations of his voice were hot against the inside of her thighs. He pressed a second finger alongside the first, slowly building up a rhythm with his hands that matched the circles he drew with his tongue just above.

Teresa felt her body turning on in a way it hadn’t done in ages. Her body was limp and tense all at the same time, and as the general used his free hand to glide over her skin, grabbing her hips and ass and thighs forcefully, she couldn’t help but sense the contrast with Pedro’s love making, which had been warm and kind but almost too gentle. Pedro, so sweet, had never been able to love her deeply enough to see past _María Dantés_. That was of her own doing, of course. For the second time that day she regretted letting him love her at all.

And for the third time that day, Abdelkader refused to be sidelined for a ghost. He pulled away from her, grabbed her wrists, and pinned them above her head as he pressed the length of his body against hers. Burying his head in her neck, he kissed and sucked and bit, hard.

“ _Te quiero presente, Teresa_ ,” he growled into her ear, tracing his tongue around its ridges. “ _Está vez te voy a tener sin que estás pensando en otro_.” He let go of one of her wrist to settle himself between her, and pushed in. Her eyes fluttered shut at the pressure, and she moaned as he began sliding against the slickness inside her.

Abdeldaker’s lovemaking was powerfully insistent, yet also fully and totally absorbed in _her_. Every time he sensed one of the others cross her mind, he thrusted harder, deeper; he bit down into her skin; he twisted her nipple sharply; he pulled her hair. Each time she sighed and moaned, grateful to be brought back into her living, breathing body.

He fucked her intensely, intently, his own body thrumming with an _aliveness_ that Teresa found intoxicating. As his hands traced the lines of her body, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him further into her. They rocked against each other, pressing their foreheads together, breathing each other in.

Teresa dug her nails into the general’s back, tracing scratches up his muscles, until her hands reached his head. Raking her nails through his close-cropped hair, she looked up into his eyes. “ _General… dejáme montarme_.”

He froze—and again, Teresa shivered with enjoyment. She had once controlled just as much of an army as he did now, but she couldn’t deny the thrill it gave her to know how quickly this powerful general bent to her will with just a word.

The general pulled himself out of her, grabbed her waist roughly, and pulled her along with him as he flipped himself on to his back.

Straddling him, Teresa had one hand pressed onto his hip bone as the the other guided him inside her. She looked down at his body—tight and cut, a military body to be sure—and licked her lips as she began to ride him. His hands were on her hips, his fingertips no doubt pressing bruises into the flesh of her hips as she rolled them against his body. He watched her hungrily, eyes darting from her mouth to her breasts to the place where their bodies came together. Teresa smiled to watch his mouth go slack as she took her fingers to her lips, wet them, and began drawing circles where Abdelkader himself had licked and sucked earlier.

“Teresa…” His voice came out broken, hardly coherent. She closed her eyes, lips curved into a contented smile, as she moved her hips faster and her fingers in tandem.

“No,” he snarled, nearly knocking her off balance as he sat up abruptly, circling his legs around her, and pulling hers up, leaving her encaged on his lap. He pulled her hand away from her body, twisting it and pinning it behind her back. “You asked me for a favor. You must allow me to provide it,” he insisted. She smiled, saying nothing, just arching her back and began to slide up and down his length, with his thighs propped up against her back.

Face twisted with lust, he traced his fingers over her lips, dipping them into her mouth. She sucked, and twirled her tongue around them, wetting them completely before he turned to the task she had shown him.

And then she let go, completely. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back, and gave in to the sensations of their bodies moving together. A knot in her belly pulled tighter and tighter as she moved herself against his length and he twisted his fingers around the most sensitive part of her. Her body pulsed, vibrated, and she found herself again unable to make a sound—but it only took a few moments before the knot snapped, releasing a flood of electric sensation out through her body. Her mouth hung open, silent. Her muscles collapsed, lax. The general growled with pleasure, and slid her body off his. Tossing her on her back again, he pressed into her once more, pushing and thrusting until he reached his own release, almost taking Teresa along with him again.

They laid together in companionable silence for several moments after. Abdelkader’s leg was tossed over Teresa’s; her hand was bent up underneath his bicep. She could feel the sweat and heat of both of their bodies slick between them. She’d certainly need another shower, but in the meantime, she had to attend to another urge.

“Alright,” she said, finding her voice dry and hoarse. “I’m hungry now.”

 

The general barked out a laugh. She smiled, too.

 

He rolled over to face her, bringing his hand to her cheek as he smiled fondly. “Very good, _ma chère_. I’ll send someone out for a meal.” He pulled her head downwards, and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead. “And tomorrow we’ll head to Plaza Aljarafe to raise you from the dead.”


End file.
